Seven Years of Torture
by Liebling
Summary: It takes seven years to lose yourself. Seven years of torture. Seven years of pain. (DracoGinny)


Author's Notice: Here it is. With nothing fancy. It's a story of abuse and to throw away the cliche the ending is not. No italics, bold, underline, anything. I have never been an abusive relationship. I hope this helps SOMEONE.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
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There are many stories I could tell you. I could tell you how this all started, I could tell you of my folly and my mistake. Mistakes, not mistake. I could tell you how it all ended, and why I fell for him and why I stayed with him. I could tell you everything you wanted to know. However, we are running short on time.  
  
But let's assume you're like anyone else, shall we? Let's assume that you, as well as anyone else, knows what it feels like to fall in love and be in love and love someone. Let's assume that you've had experiences that made you feel like, wow, I'm doing the right thing, he's a good guy. Let's assume that you, as well as anyone else, has fallen for someone who treated you like you were a Princess. A Princess. And you wanted to be beautiful to him, and for him to love you, and you tried...because that was a very big deal. Let's also assume you built your life around someone who was selfish, and uncaring, and intimidating.  
  
My life is not some twisted soap opera. Rarely in my life have I had to make choices that were life-altering. Usually, I make regular choices. What dress robes go with what shoes, what sandwich to order in some tiny shop in Hogsmeade, where to hang out with my friends. I made a life and death choice to leave Draco Malfoy.  
  
After over five years of hiding bruises, of trying not to cry in public, of being scared, I left him. I do not use the term 'broke up with' because that would make it seem as though we had a normal relationship. We did not. I had completely and utterly lost myself and I can only now articulate it in such ways. Things that mattered to be no longer did. Grades, family, friends. Things that only shortly before had made me me, had been things my life revolved around. And to use an old cliche, things that brought joy into my life. When Draco Malay asked me out, I, as much as you would've been, probably, was simply thrilled. Thrilled. I mean, Ron hated him...heck, all of my brothers hated him. But I really liked him. We made eye contact in the halls, talked during breaks and sometimes he even squeezed my hand. I always thought he loved Pansy but no, no of course he didn't.  
  
As no justification from what I've been through, I think the war was a major problem. Before the war started in my sixth year I was so happy. So was he. We were happy together. We dated, we went to Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and spent summer time together. He bought me the prettiest emerald ring for Christmas and we adored each other. When the war started, in the middle of my seventh year things changed. He was working for the Ministry and I was still at Hogwarts. When we did hang out, which was seldom, he was more tense, we didn't talk as frequently. One night I went to visit him at his flat at around eleven. He had just come back from talking with his Father about the estate and was so angry he hit me when I asked what was the matter. That's when all of this started.  
  
As any seventeen year old girl would be, I was scared. I was breathing hard and my cheeks were flushed. "Draco..." I will always remember saying "...I know your Father is difficult to talk to. But if you touch me ONE more time, I swear I will break up with you." He apologized immediately. I, as much as any of you would be, was angry and hurt. How could he hit me...someone so undeserving of such a thing? I stormed out of his flat and went straight back to Hogwarts. I was rational, calm, cool, and collected. I in no way told myself it was my fault or that I deserved such a thing. I, as much as anyone else would, questioned our relationship. But I loved Draco, and we could work through it.  
  
That's my first recollection of him being abusive towards me. Nothing else matters just suffice it to say I should've gotten out sooner and that the abuse continued. He told me that no one else would love me, he apologized every single time. I was also financially independent on him. After Hogwarts we shared a flat, much to my parents dismay. I worked as a waitress at Honeydukes part time and also went to the nearest University. We worked hard balancing the relationship. He was constantly stressed. The wizarding world...something happened to it my first few years after Hogwarts. Things got crazy. Voldemort got stronger and people got weaker. A war began, it crept up on all of us. He'd come home late, smelling like cigarette smoke. We never thought about marriage. I do not have any idea when the abuse became normal and okay. Gradually, it became part of our relationship as much as anything else. It is true that eventually you become used to things to the point where you're just like, oh.  
  
I wasted away to nothingness. I was nothing. I was this skinny little thing, my freckles seemed to fade away and my hair grew thin. My family worried, my friends worried, everyone worried about me but no one understood. You probably don't understand. I write this in hope that someone, somewhere will understand. He used to be such a charming, handsome young man. I stayed with him for seven years. I watched him grow up, I watched him become a man, I watched him fight in a war. I watched him throw down all of my expectations, I watched him stomp on my heart and take away everything that mattered. I too, watched someone I loved waste away to nothingness. Maybe he was nothing too.  
  
This is a very depressing tale, you're probably thinking. It is and I know it. When I was twenty-two, out of University and working at the Ministry, half dead, I left him. I wrote him a letter. I said it all. Everything I wanted to say but couldn't. I wrote him a letter in my messy cursive, ink and tear stains all over it. There was no crazy liberation where I jumped and laughed and yelled at him. It was an empty sort of freedom. I wrote him the note, sealed it with a red-lipstick kiss and put it on the counter. I began walking out the door.  
  
If only things could've ended that way. Right as I was walking out the door, he entered it, finished with work from the Ministry, hurriedly he read the letter. I nervously continued to walk out the door but was struck in the head by something heavy behind me. I do not know what it was, and I didn't see it coming. They found me in his flat. My head bleeding.  
  
I don't know if you believe in God or religion or something holy. I know that when I woke up in the hospital, bleeding and confused, something cracked in my mind that allowed me to write all of this. Something in me was able to do this. The old me did this, the little girl who loved writing.   
  
I'm in the hospital right now. They don't know if I'm going to make it. My family has visited and here I have told them my story. Here I have slowly and quietly told them everything. My best friends in the whole world have visited, Neville and Hannah. I have told them everything as well. And now, I have told you everything. I think I'm crazy, no one writes things like this on stiff hospital beds in hospital pajamas. No one ever does. But I believe this is something that needs to be said. They're trying to save my life, and I'm trying to want to live. Oh God, I want to live. Please.  
  
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Rest in Peace.   
  
Ginny Anne Weasley.


End file.
